


Trial and Error

by BowieGirl



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Insecure Peter Parker, Insecure Tony, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BowieGirl/pseuds/BowieGirl
Summary: “An hour?! Are you – ” Tony had to actively restrain himself from sending the table between them flying through the window. “This date is over.”He was already half way across the restaurant when she called out after him.“He’s not even your son!”Tony whirled around so fast he knocked a bottle of champagne off a nearby table.“If anything has happened to my kid, I swear to God, no force in this galaxy will be able to protect you from me.”----Or, alternatively: Peter Parker gets in trouble, gets sick, and gets a dad.





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the therapy I needed desperately after watching Endgame.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Prioritizing school over saving the world was not something Peter was particularly good at. Okay, so maybe _saving the world_ was a bit of an over exaggeration – stopping a few bike thefts and plucking lost cats out of trees wasn’t exactly changing anyone’s life. But still, to Peter, those small victories were the best part of his day.

So it was almost inevitable that everything else in his life kind of fell to the wayside. Homework was important, sure, but was it as important as stopping Mrs. Higgs from having her purse snatched right off of her arm? Nope. Wasn’t losing a little sleep a reasonable price to pay for stopping a three year old girl from wandering into oncoming traffic? Absolutely.

He tried to give his best to his studies, he really did. When he was in school, he didn’t check his twitter feed or pay attention to the news. The problem was that listening to lectures on three or less hours of sleep often had the inevitable result of Peter dozing off during the most inopportune times – like when he was asked to present a project in chemistry that he knew absolutely nothing about.

“Peter,” Ned was looking at him, his owlish eyes round with concern. “You – uh, you know that project is worth like, a third of our grade right?”

They were eating lunch and Peter was in the middle of devouring his fifth sandwich. He sighed around a mouthful of peanut butter.

“Yeah, I know. It’s okay though; I’ll throw something together this weekend and hand it in on Monday.”

“But your grade is capped at eighty percent for late assignments,” Ned said, tossing a bag of chips onto Peter’s tray.

“Yeah, but as long as I ace the rest of the course, I’ll be fine,” Peter shrugged. “I’m probably not going to college anyway.”

Ned eyes him suspiciously. “You told Mr. Stark that?”

Peter flushed. “He doesn’t need to know.”

“Sure. He’s only calling in a bunch of favors at MIT. Not a big deal or anything.”

“There’s no way he’s actually doing that,” Peter said a little doubtfully.

“Come on man. Tony Stark is totally invested in you. I just – do you think it’s a good idea to pull the rug out from under him like that?”

Peter sighed and stood, shoving the bag of chips into his backpack. “I gotta get to Spanish. I’ll see you later.”

The truth was, Peter _did_ feel guilty about letting Mr. Stark down. He wanted to be a superstar at everything, to impress Mr. Stark with how many people he could save _and_ how smart he could be. But he was just too damn tired all the time to be good everything. And Spiderman was the only thing he really cared about. He just wished Mr. Stark could understand that.

Not that they talked on a regular basis. He got a quick text here and there, but mostly all communication came from Happy. Peter still left long-winded reports on his voicemail, and sometimes he received less than thrilled messages back. But the majority of the time, Peter was on his own. And he was perfectly fine with that. Really, he was.

May had already left for work by the time he got home from school. There was a note and a ten dollar bill for pizza or takeout, but Peter wasn’t hungry. His eyes were heavy and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball under his sheets and go to sleep for a decade or two. But he had that Chemistry project to work on, and since it was Friday and May was working, he could stay out as late as he wanted patrolling. He didn’t have time for a nap. Not now, at least. He’d sleep in tomorrow morning, he told himself. Then he plopped down at his desk and pulled out his chemistry textbook.

It took three and a half hours to construct a passable and working model of acid rain and by the time he was done his stomach felt like it was gnawing on his backbone. He eyed the ten dollars May had left him but opted against using it. Money was always tight, and there was a perfectly good box of cereal sitting in the pantry waiting to be eaten. They were out of milk, so Peter mixed in a little cool water and ate two bowlfuls until his stomach stopped actively trying to digest his spinal cord.

Then it was time to patrol. Peter felt the familiar swell of adrenaline somewhere inside his stomach as he donned the suit and swung out of his bedroom window. He took a deep breath and inhaled fresh air and the sweet taste of freedom. This, he thought, is where he truly belonged.

It was relatively quiet for a Friday night. He broke up a domestic fight in the back alley behind his favorite sandwich shop, stopped a mugging and chased down a runaway schnauzer. It was easy work but by the time midnight rolled around Peter was exhausted and sweating.

“Peter,” Karen spoke in his ear. “Your heart-rate is elevated and you blood pressure is dropping. Would you like me to contact Tony Stark?”

“No! Nope, nah, thanks, I’m good,” Peter plopped down on his butt. “See? I’m resting. All is well, no need to bother Mr. Stark.”

“Very well, Peter, but if your blood pressure does not stabilized in the next five minutes, I will have no choice but to abide by the Baby Monitor Protocol.”

Peter blinked. “The what now?”

“Baby Monitor Protocol,” Karen repeated. “It prevents you from putting yourself in serious danger and enables direct contact between myself and FRIDAY.”

“You – you have direct contact with Mr. Stark’s AI?”

“In times of extreme duress, yes.”

Peter rolled his eyes and lay down to stare at the stars. The lights from the city made it nearly impossible to see anything from the ground, but when he was way up high and spread eagle on the roof of a sky-scraper he could almost make out the tiny pinpricks of light scattered against the inky black sky. It was chilly but Peter’s suit kept him warm and insulated and the sounds of the city lapped over him like waves. Against his will Peter felt his eyelids grow heavy. His stomach was grumbling again and there was a strange beeping in his ears but he let everything fade into darkness as his eyes closed and his brain shut down.

“Pete? Peter? Wake up, kid.”

Peter moaned and batted at the hands cradled on either side of his face.

“Leave me alone. M’sleepin.”

“Sure are, buddy,” the voice was dry. “On the rooftop of a bank. In the middle of the night. In your Spiderman suit.”

Peter knew that voice. It was familiar and comforting and safe and all he wanted was to wrap up in it and go back to – Peter’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, smacking Tony Stark in the chin with his forehead and sending his sunglasses skidding across the roof.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark!” Peter grappled frantically around on the ground for the missing glasses.

“Take it easy, kid,” Tony said, rubbing his chin. He bent down and plucked the wayward sunglasses off the ground and held them up towards the moonlight. There was a long jagged crack running straight down the center of the left lens and then splintering off to both sides. Peter’s stomach dropped to his toes.

“Oh my God, Mr. Stark, I’m so, so sorry, I’ll buy you a new pair, I promise, I’ll go get them right now, just give me ten minutes and I’ll – ”

“Pete,” Tony was looking at him with a very faint smile. “These are six hundred dollar sunglasses. Also it’s almost one o’clock in the morning. Where, exactly, were you planning on swinging off to in the next ten minutes to get me a new pair?”

“Um,” Peter considered. “Well, I think the real question here, Mr. Stark, is why you’re wearing six hundred dollar sunglasses in the middle of the night?”

Tony crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Have you met me, kid?”

Peter laughed and then coughed. Then coughed some more. His chest felt tight and his head was suddenly swimming. He took a step forward and tumbled straight into Mr. Stark’s surprised embrace.

“You really _are_ in bad shape,” Tony sighed. “Why in the world didn’t you call me?”

Peter pressed his face into his mentor’s neck and sighed. He knew, logically, that if he had his wits about him he would be mortally embarrassed to have Tony Stark practically cradling him like a small child against his chest, but at the moment, it was hard to care. He was so tired.

“Alright, Spiderbaby,” Tony said softly, easing him back onto the ground. “Give me a second to get the suit back on and we’ll jet on out of here. I should probably call your aunt.”

“She’s working,” Peter mumbled.

“Of course she is,” Mr. Stark sighed, stepping back into his armor. “Guess you’re spending the night with me then, kiddo.”

“Not a kid.”

“Of course you’re not,” Tony said, lifting Peter into his now iron-clad arms. “Close your eyes, you totally one hundred percent grown up man. Get some sleep.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice.

He dreamed. Of course he did, because the universe was clearly out to get him. At least it wasn’t the building this time – at least he didn’t wake up panting and clawing at his chest. Instead it was everything he never had. It was his mom, running her hands through his hair, kissing his forehead and humming softly into his ear. It was his dad, standing at the foot of the bed watching the two of them with a soft and glowing smile.

It was May and Ben in the parking lot behind their apartment building teaching him how to hold a baseball bat. It was the ice cream dripping down his chin after they’d called it quits and were resting on the front stoop laughing and trading teasing barbs. It was Ned and MJ curled up on his couch working on chemistry homework because there was nothing else on Peter’s mind. No Spiderman. No saving the world. Just pimples and baseball games and wondering if MJ liked his smile as much as he liked hers.

It was wonderful which is why it was the absolute worst. He woke up crying. Not big, gulping sobs, but silent steady rivers that cascaded down his face and soaked Mr. Stark’s pillow. Waking up from those types of dreams always felt like he was being pulled through a blender – everything hurt and he never wanted to open his eyes again.

“Easy, Spiderling. You’re okay. It was only a dream.”

There was a hand in his hair, tugging gently at his curs and massaging his scalp.

“I know,” Peter whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep. “That’s the problem.”

The hand stilled in his hair. There was a sigh and then he was being tugged up to lean against the headboard.

“You’ve been asleep all day, kid. How about we get something to eat?”

Mr. Stark was looking at him with thinly veiled concern. There was a hand on his back and Peter realized a little late that he still had tears and snot all over his face. He dove for the covers and Tony laughed.

“Hop in the shower and meet me downstairs in half an hour. We have a few things we need to discuss.”

“Joy,” Peter groaned into a mouthful of comforter.

Those _things_ turned out to be a laundry list of complaints compiled between Mr. Stark and aunt May. It started with his grades, meandered through his laughable sleep schedule, whizzed past skipping meals and landed on overdoing it on patrol. Peter sat through the lecture with his back stiff and his fists clenches. This was _exactly_ why he hadn’t contacted Tony in the first place.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter cut his mentor off. “I get it, okay? I’ll do better from now on. Can I go now?”

Tony sat back in his chair and gave Peter a long, considering stare. Then he reached forward and shoved a plate of eggs under the boy’s nose.

“Eat. And don’t interrupt me when I’m lecturing you. I have so very few people to reprimand anymore.”

Peter rolled his eyes and took a bite of eggs. Almost against his will he discovered how absolutely famished he was, and in a matter of minutes had polished off four poached eggs, three pieces of toast, a slice of melon, and two rather large stacks of bacon. Tony watched him with a blank expression.

“This really isn’t a big deal, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, draining the last bit of milk from his glass. “I got a little over tired. It won’t happen again.”

“Over tired?” Tony shook his head. “Kid, you were _exhausted_. Like, dangerously, body and organs almost shutting down, exhausted. If it wasn’t for your advanced healing you could have put yourself in serious danger, do you understand that?”

Peter sighed but nodded.

“Now,” Tony sat forward and drummed his finger against the table. “I want you to know I seriously considered taking the suit back again.”

Peter’s head snapped up.

Mr. Stark held up a hand. “But I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking taking your suit would stop this weird masochistic thing you have going on.”

“I’m not – ”

“Zip it, kiddo, the adult is still talking.”

Peter closed his mouth with a murderous glare.

“So, your aunt and I discussed what to do at great length this morning and we came up with a rather – creative solution.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Peter mumbled.

“Knew you’d be excited,” Tony smirked. “Now, since Aunt hottie works on the weekends, from now on after school on Fridays you’re coming over here. You’ll do your homework, eat dinner, and watch a movie or something else somewhat teenagery until eleven and then it’s time for baby spiders to get some shuteye.”

Peter blinked. “But – I have to patrol!”

“Nope, no, you certainly do not. As a matter of fact, until the end of the semester, you can consider yourself grounded.”

Peter jumped to his feet, bumping the table in the process and knocking his empty glass to the floor. “You can’t – you can’t do this to me!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Looks like I can. And just did.”

Peter felt helpless and angry and overwhelmed and there was the familiar telltale burning in the back of his throat that warned him he was dangerously close to bursting into tears again.

“During the week,” Tony continued, “May will be there to keep an eye on you. And don’t even think about sneaking out – I think we both know by now that I can track you _anywhere_.”

Peter was trembling. He’d never felt so betrayed in his entire life – it was like Tony was taking his _only reason for living_ away from him. And God did it _hurt_.

“You’re not my dad!” The words sprang from his mouth before he could stop them. There was a long, terrible moment where Mr. Stark just looked at him with narrow, dark eyes and Peter thought wildly that he had finally crossed the line.

But then Tony just sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, good thing too. If I ever talked to my dad like that, Pete, I wouldn’t have been able sit for a week.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. His chest felt raw and empty and he was afraid if he opened his mouth again he might cry.

“Kid,” Tony stood and made his way around the table. He dropped an awkward hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed. “I swear I’m not doing this to make you miserable. _We’re_ not doing this to make you miserable. You can’t see the damage you’re doing to yourself, but it’s absolutely _killing us_, Pete. Don’t you get that? You’re destroying yourself and you’re making us watch while you do it.”

A few traitorous tears slipped through to trickle down Peter’s face and he quickly brushed them away.

“You have the rest of your life to be a superhero,” Tony continued. “You only have a few more years to be a teenager.”

“It’s the only thing I’m good at, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered.

“Oh, cut the pity party,” Tony shook him softly. “You don’t believe that, and neither do I. You’re good at everything you do, kid.”

“But being Spiderman is _important_.”

“So is school,” Tony snapped, exasperated. “So is sleeping, and eating, and hanging out with your weirdo friends. All of that stuff keeps you healthy, and sharp, and makes you a better hero. You get me?”

Peter sagged a little and nodded.

“Good. Now, do you want to sulk around here all day feeling your feelings, or do you want to come help me in the lab?”

Peter wanted to dig his heels in and cross his arms, march off to another room and pout. But the temptation of working in _Tony Stark’s_ lab was too good. He grudgingly accepted the invitation and tried to ignore Mr. Stark’s smug smile as he trailed behind him out of the kitchen and into the elevator.

It wasn’t a bad weekend, as weekends go. Once Peter set aside his anger and resentment he had to admit a small part of him felt – _relieved_ not to think about Spiderman stuff for a few days. Not that he was looking forward to the next few weeks keeping his feet on the ground. Still, he had to admit, after getting a few nights of some genuine solid sleep under his belt he felt _much_ better.

School seemed a little easier too when he wasn’t passing out on his desk or yawning so yard his jaw cracked. He turned in his chemistry project and asked about extra credit opportunities. His teacher’s smile was wide and pleased and Peter had the sinking suspicion Mr. Stark and May weren’t the only ones who had been worried about him.

May had been prepared for a fight when he came home from school Monday night. To be honest, Peter had spent all day trying to figure out a way to wheedle an hour or two out of her that evening, but then he walked through the door and took one look at her drawn face and her sad, tired eyes, and decided to give it a rest.

“What’s for dinner?” He asked, tossing his backpack on the couch.

May eyed him suspiciously. “Spaghetti.”

“With meatballs?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Sweet!” Peter grinned. “I’m gonna take a shower before we eat, if that’s okay?”

“Oh – uh, okay. I mean, that’s fine.”

Peter headed for the bathroom trying not to notice the way May sagged a little with relief behind his back.

They ate dinner together at the kitchen table and then sprawled out on the couch to watch some terrible reality dating TV show before Peter excused himself to do his homework in his room. He didn’t miss the way May’s back stiffened and her steely gaze followed him like a hawk. He rolled his eyes but kept his bedroom door open so she could see he wasn’t planning on climbing out the window. That seemed to satisfy her.

It wasn’t so bad. If Peter didn’t let his mind wander to the people he wasn’t helping, or think about the bad things that he wasn’t being allowed to stop, it wasn’t terrible. He went to sleep early and only had one nightmare, and all things considered, it wasn’t as bad as he had originally feared it would be. He made a mental note never to tell Mr. Stark that though.

The week flew by and before he knew it Happy was pulling up in front of his school and staring impatiently at him from inside the car. Peter grinned and waved and Happy shook his head and pointed to the backseat.

“Well, that’s my ride,” Peter clapped Ned on the shoulder. “See you Monday, dude.”

Ned was practically salivating. “I can’t believe you get to spend you weekends with _Tony freaking Stark_.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s not a vacation, man. I’m being punished.”

Ned turned his wide eyes on Peter. “Do you think Mr. Stark can punish me too?”

“That – does not sound right,” Peter wrinkled his nose. “I’m leaving now. You made it weird.”

“Bye Peter! Tell Mr. Stark I love him!”

“Oh my _God_,” Peter groaned and crawled into the backseat. Happy raised an eyebrow at him in the rear-view mirror.

“I wouldn’t tell Tony that if I were you,” he said.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Mr. Stark was in his lab when Peter arrived. FRIDAY directed him down the hall and into the appropriate elevator.

“How many elevators does this place even have?” Peter muttered to himself.

“There are currently five functioning elevators,” FRIDAY responded helpfully. “Three are presently out of working order, and one that can only be utilized with a key.”

Peter shook his head and laughed softly. “Thanks, FRI.”

“You are most welcome, Peter.”

Mr. Stark was standing with his back to the door when Peter entered. He was talking on the phone and his voice sounded oddly – sweet. Silky? Sultry. Definitely sultry. It made Peter’s skin crawl.

“Of course, sweetheart. Yes, absolutely, anything you want. Okay. I’ll see you then. I look forward to it.”

He hung up and turned around to find Peter staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

“What?” Tony said. “Never heard a big boy conversation before?”

Peter frowned and crossed his arms. “Was that Pepper?”

Tony flinched and Peter immediately wished the words back into his big, stupid mouth.

“Nope,” Tony schooled his expression quickly. “No, Pepper and I are no longer – whatever we were.”

“A couple?”

“Yeah, that. We’re not that anymore. Hey, you wanna order a pizza? I’m feeling some pizza.”

Peter took pity on him. “Yeah. Extra pineapple.”

Mr. Stark threw him a disgusted look. “You are a monster.”

An hour later they were sitting on bar-stools sharing a two liter bottle of root beer between the two of them. The older man seemed a little distracted and Peter was just trying to decide if he should say something about it when Tony beat him to the punch.

“So. I have a – uh, favor to ask of you. And do keep in mind that you’re my favorite intern, okay?”

Peter picked a pepperoni off of the slice of pizza sitting in front of Tony and grinned.

“I’m your only intern.”

“Beside the point,” Tony waved his hand in the air. “I need discretion here, buddy. As in…”

“As in?”

Tony deflated. “As in please don’t tell aunt hottie or she’ll cut off a part of my body that I’m actually particularly fond of.”

Peter spluttered and choked on a mouthful of root beer. “Mr. Stark! _Gross_!”

Tony laughed and patted him on the back.

“Here’s the deal. I have a – date type thing set up for tonight. Not ideal, all things considered. But you know, adults have _commitments_, Peter, and I can’t exactly expect her to rearrange her schedule for me, right?”

Peter tilted his head. “Uh, right?”

“Exactly,” Tony said, nodding. “And so – the things is – I’m not asking you to like, lie to your aunt or anything, but if you could maybe not mention it? That’d be great.”

Peter stared at him. And then he understood.

“You’re leaving me here alone.”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. Bad idea. Sorry, underoos, forget I said anything. I’ll call her back and reschedule.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter grabbed his arm before he could reach for his phone. “It’s fine. Totally fine. I get it. Break ups suck and – I don’t know who this woman is, but you seemed pretty excited about it. Judging by your tone on the phone earlier, which, by the way, was _super gross_, but whatever. Go on your date. I’ll be fine.”

Tony slumped in his seat. “Are you sure, kid? Because if you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”

“I’m not a baby, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine for one night.”

“Alright,” Tony said slowly. “But if anything happens – and I mean _anything_, Peter, like you get a sliver or your hair isn’t curling right, you call me immediately, okay?”

“My hair isn’t – _what_?”

Tony laughed and tossed another piece of pizza onto Peter’s plate.

They tinkered around in the lab for another hour before Mr. Stark excused himself to get ready for his date. He gave Peter permission to stay in the lab as long as he promised not to touch anything even remotely dangerous, which consisted of pretty much _everything in the lab_. So Peter took the elevator back up to the living room and settled in for a Star Wars marathon.

“Whoa,” Tony said fifteen minutes later as he stepped into the room. “You are such a _geek_.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Dude, how much cologne are you _wearing_?”

“Did you just call me dude?”

“Nope, absolutely not.”

“Didn’t think so.” Tony smacked a fifty dollar bill down on the table in front of Peter. “In case of emergencies.”

“What kind of emergency would require – ”

“I put nothing past you, kiddo,” Tony grinned and ruffled Peter’s hair. “I’m leaving now. You have my number. If you need anything, give me a call. I mean it. Anything. Don’t worry about bothering me. I won’t mind. Seriously, Peter, you need me, I’m here.”

“Oh my God, _stop_,” Peter laughed. “Get out of here. I’m fine. I promise if I stub my toe you’ll be the first person I call.”

“Good!”

It was quiet after he left. Peter didn’t mind though – with his advanced senses, sometimes he missed the quiet almost desperately. He sunk into the couch, pressed play on the Force Awakens, and settled in for a blissfully silent night.

It was going well. He got through half of the first movie and three bags of popcorn when he started feeling weird. It wasn’t – nausea, necessarily. But his stomach was hurting and his palms were oddly sweaty. His head felt a little heavy too and his throat was painfully dry. He got himself another glass of root beer and then curled up on the couch with a pillow pressed to his aching stomach.

“Peter,” FRIDAY said. “You appear to be in distress. Should I contact Tony Stark?”

“Um,” Peter considered. He was going to say no. He always said no. But that was exactly what had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place, and this time his stomach was _really hurting_. What if he was seriously sick?

“No, FRI, I’ll call him myself. Thanks, though.”

He dialed Tony’s number and was genuinely surprised when it only rang once before going straight to voicemail. He called two more times just to be on the safe side and then left a message.

_Hey, Mr. Stark. I’m really sorry to bother you. But. Um. I’m not feeling too hot right now. I mean, it’s probably nothing. But I said I’d call even if it was nothing so. Yeah. Sorry to bother you. It’s Peter, by the way._

Peter was shaking and he wasn’t sure why. He missed Tony. He missed May. His stomach hurt and his head was throbbing and he wished someone was there to tell him he was going to be okay. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the back of the couch. He needed to go to sleep, he told himself. Just go to sleep and then you’ll feel better in the morning.

Just go to sleep.

Just go to…sleep…

Just…go to…

****

Tony was trying to enjoy his date. He really was! Her name was Caroline. He thought. She was a model – or, maybe a ballet dancer. A yoga instructor? Well, whatever. She was something that had to do with how beautiful she was.

But he couldn’t focus. She would talk and his mind would wander to Pepper. And if it wasn’t Pepper it was Peter. God, he hoped the kid was okay. He shouldn’t have left him. But Rhodey had been giving him a hard time about getting back out there, and supposedly Carla was an absolute delight, a real charmer, blah, blah, blah.

“Are you feeling alright?” Whatever her name was asked.

Tony blinked and shook his head. “Of course, sweetheart. Just a little distracted. I apologize.”

Her lips were pressed together in a tight line and Tony found himself wondering suddenly which Star Wars movie Peter was watching right at that moment.

“If you’ll excuse me for just a second,” Tony smiled.

He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face then took several long moments to stare at his face in the mirror. He looked about as bored as he felt. No wonder what’s her name was so annoyed. He sighed and straightened his tie. This entire night had been a mistake. He couldn’t stop think about Peter, sitting alone in a place that was still new to him, wondering when his flaky mentor would finally be home. He should never have left him.

On the way back to the table he tried to call up a good excuse to beg off early. He could say he was sick? Food poisoning maybe? No, they’d both had the lamb. She’d know instantly that he was full of shit. An emergency. A family emergency. He’d blame the kid. He’d already spent half an hour badgering her ear off about the _really smart, really funny_ kid he had waiting for him at home, so it wouldn’t be too suspicious. He didn’t think. Maybe he could grab a gallon of ice cream on the way home and split it with Peter.

He reached for his shirt pocket and then started to panic when he realized he didn’t have his phone on him. Had he left it at the table? He didn’t remember taking it out. Was it in the car maybe? Come to think of it, he didn’t remember seeing his phone since he’d draped his jacket around what’s her face’s shoulders as they’d entered the restaurant earlier that night. As he approached the table all of the pieces abruptly fell into place.

His phone was laying in his date’s open palm and she was staring mutinously down at the screen as though it had done something to personally offend her.

“Excuse me,” Tony plucked the device out of her hand. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop?”

She crossed her arms and stuck her chin in the air. “I wasn’t snooping.”

But Tony wasn’t listening. He was staring at the three missed calls from Peter and the blinking red light that mockingly informed him he had a voicemail. Tony cursed himself for putting his goddamn phone on vibrate so he could focus all his attention on this _manipulative shrew_ sitting in front of him.

“How long ago did he call?” Tony asked through gritted teeth, grabbing his jacket off the back of Coraline’s chair.

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. An hour ago, maybe.”

“An _hour_?! Are you – ” Tony had to actively restrain himself from sending the table between them flying through the window. “This date is over.”

He was already half way across the restaurant when she called out after him.

“He’s not even your son!”

Tony whirled around so fast he knocked a bottle of champagne off a nearby table.

“If anything has happened to my kid, I _swear to God_, no force in this galaxy will be able to protect you from me.”

And then he was in the parking lot, playing and replaying Peter’s quivering voice on his phone, and desperately sending for a suit. He tried calling Peter back six times but every single time it rang and then went to voicemail. The burning wave of panic that was rising in his chest felt familiar and unwelcome all at once. By the time his suit finally arrived, whizzing through the air and then sliding around him like second skin, Tony was just this side of a severe anxiety attack. Seconds later he was rocketing through the sky and towards his kid.

His kid. Goddamn it, did he even have a right to think of Peter that way? Would a good father have left his kid all alone when he knew how much he’d been struggling lately? No. Would a good father have allowed his phone to be out of his sight for even a _second_ when his kid was at home by himself? No. Tony didn’t deserve to think of Peter that way. He didn’t deserve Peter at all.

“FRIDAY, tell me what’s going on.”

“Peter developed a severe stomach ache approximately sixty-seven minutes ago. He is currently unconscious.”

“Vitals?”

“Temperature 102.3 degrees. Blood pressure is slightly elevated at 125 over 83.”

At top speed it took Tony two minutes and thirteen seconds to get home and it was two minutes and thirteen seconds too long. Tony tore himself free from the armor and was shooting down the stairs in the space of two heartbeats.

Peter was asleep on the couch, buried under a pile of blankets and pillows. Tony was afraid to touch him, afraid whatever he did would make it worse, would ruin Peter the way he ruined everything else good in his life. Like he’d ruined Pepper.

“Pete? Kid?” He rolled Peter onto his back and lightly tapped his face. “Underoos! Wake up before I call your aunt and tell her about your huge embarrassing crush on that mean girl you’re always hanging out with.”

Peter whimpered and cracked open an eye.

“Rude.”

Tony sighed and placed a hand on Peter’s burning forehead.

“What’s going on, buddy?”

“I dunno,” Peter swallowed. “My stomach suddenly started hurting and I got all shaky and my head felt heavy and it was pounding and then I just – fell asleep.”

“Okay,” Tony brushed the hair out of his eyes. “How do you feel now? How’s the tummy?”

“My _stomach_ is fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter rolled his eyes and then winced. “Okay, maybe not totally fine. But it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did before.”

Tony nodded. “Well, FRIDAY says you have a fever. I think you might have caught a bug of some kind. I’m gonna grab you some Tylenol and Gatorade. You need anything else?”

“A cold washcloth?”

“You got it.”

Tony was back in record time. He helped Peter sit up and held the glass against his lips while he swallowed his medicine and then settled him back against the couch with a cool towel resting against his forehead.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled a little sadly. “You can go back now. I don’t mind.”

Tony cocked his head and frowned. “What are you talking about, kid?”

The teenager blinked back tears. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m so sorry I ruined your date. Please don’t – don’t _hate_ me, okay?”

Tony felt all of the breath leave his body. Did Peter really think so little of him? Well, yes, he probably did. What, exactly, had Tony done for him lately other than ditch him to spend his Friday night all alone in a place that was still new and strange to him? How had he managed to fuck things up so badly between them in such a short amount of time?

“Pete,” he whispered. “I could never, _ever_ hate you. Remember what I told you before I left? I _asked_ you to call me if something was wrong, kiddo. You did everything right. I’m _so proud_ of you.”

“You didn’t answer,” Peter mumbled. “You – _ignored_ me.”

“Never, kid,” Tony wrapped Peter in his arms and pulled him against his chest. “That absolute bitc – er, I mean, that awful excuse for a human being that I had the misfortune of sharing dinner with, had my phone. I didn’t know, kiddo. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I left you alone in the first place. It was a shitty thing to do. I mean, crappy. Er, bad. A bad thing to do.”

Peter laughed softly against Tony’s neck. There were still tears in his eyes but Peter blinked them away and settled more firmly into his mentor’s embrace.

“You comfy?”

“Very.”

Tony smiled against the top of his head. “Good.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered, his fingers clenched in the front of Tony’s jacket.

“What’s up?”

The teenager closed his eyes and ducked his head. “I – I love you.”

Tony swallowed against the lump in his throat. He tucked Peter into his side and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“Love you too, kid.”

“You’re not going to tell aunt May about this, are you?”

Tony laughed. “Go to sleep, underoos.”

**Author's Note:**

> Peter and Tony are my babies and this story wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Please let me know if you enjoyed and if you would like to see more Irondad/Spiderson fluff from me in the future!


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